


Just Like You

by Seeking7



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Basically Legend's life story up until LU, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hyrule is basically Legend's sneaky little brother, Legend is good with kids, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Not too much but it certainly is there, Some references to the ALTTP manga but theyre not too important, Uncle Alfon cherished little Legend like his own son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeking7/pseuds/Seeking7
Summary: Childhoods have a tendency to be defined by certain things, whether they be scents, tastes, mannerisms or habits.For Legend, that thing is pink hair.++++Another story I had the honor of writing for the Linked Universe Zine! Just a small fic centered around pink hair and why it’s so much more than just an aesthetic to Legend.
Relationships: Hyrule & Legend (Linked Universe), Link & Bipsom (Legend of Zelda), Link & Link's Uncle (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82





	Just Like You

**Author's Note:**

> And I return with yet another story for the Linked Universe Zine! I was so lucky to be able to write something for Legend, and I truly hope you’ll enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

There were a lot of things Uncle Alfon was good at. 

Cooking. 

Gardening. 

Napping. 

Running was not one of those things.

“Catch me if you can, Nephew!” 

Laughter faded into the air as the morning mist swallowed Alfon’s retreating silhouette. Link sprinted faster, face cracked into a grin and bare feet slamming into the ground, ignoring the snapping of branches beneath or the sigh of dawn above. Ivory apple blossoms spun in the air like tangible constellations, grazing the boy’s cheeks before fluttering away. Link’s feet became a blur beneath him as he vaulted over a bramble bush and tackled his uncle in a hug. The latter didn’t even flinch -- six years of raising a hyperenergetic boy had a way of desensitizing one to sudden acrobatics. 

“Ohoho! You’re much better at this game than I am,” his uncle said, running a hand through Link’s hair and brushing away an apple blossom that had landed on his cheek. The boy grinned and worked his tongue around the gap left by a missing tooth. “And you caught me in record time, too. Here, why don’t we take a seat?” 

With a labored huff, Link’s uncle took a seat by a row of apple tree saplings. He pulled his coat hood lower over his face and held his arms out, wrapping his arms around the boy and nestling him into his lap. 

The silence lingered almost as heavily as the morning fog. Shafts of light illuminated the water droplets suspended in the air, painting the ground gold and silver, and the apple blossoms hung so densely from the branches above that they almost looked like snow. 

“Look at these little trees I planted yesterday, Link,” Alfon said, gesturing to the apple saplings at his side. Their tender leaves fluttered in the breeze, still rimmed with crimson and glistening with youth. 

“They’re so small...” Link replied, reverently brushing his finger along one of the tiny, crimson stems.

“Indeed. Just like you.” 

The boy’s face scrunched up in petulant disagreement. 

“I’m not small!” 

Laughter glittered behind the deep black of Alfon’s eyes. “Ah, yes. How could I make such a mistake? You’ll have to forgive me, my friend.” 

“You’re forgiven,” the boy proclaimed. 

A humid breeze blew through the clearing. Link’s eyelids fluttered downwards, and his cheeks grew pink as the heat drew color into his face. 

“Do you know why I planted these?” Alfon continued. 

“Yeah, but tell me anyway,” Link said. His uncle’s eyes piqued upwards and settled into an amused, inverted v. 

“Ohoho! Alright then. A little boy I know saved up enough rupees to get his first sword, and I wanted to commemorate his achievement by planting some trees.” Alfon grinned as his nephew wriggled with excitement and recognition. 

“I know that boy!” 

“Do you? Really? Well, if so, please tell said boy I’m sorry I underestimated him. I really shouldn’t have made that bet.” 

Link stilled. His eyes locked with his uncle’s, narrowed and tight with cautious anticipation.

“The bet? Did you actually...” 

Alfon said nothing as he pulled off his sunhood to reveal a head of freshly-dyed pink curls. The boy’s eyes opened impossibly wide, then sparkled as the boy howled with laughter. 

“Well? How do I look?”

“You remembered!!” Link sputtered, his words shaky with mirth. “You remembered -- you actually did it! ” 

“I unfortunately did,” Alfon responded. His words dripped with theatrical sorrow. “What a silly bet that was -- promising to dye my hair pink if you got enough rupees together to buy that sword...how could I underestimate you like that?” 

Link’s eyes were luminescent. “Hehehe, yeah! How could you?” 

Mirthful creases broke out on Alfon’s hardened, sunburnt face. He crushed Link into a hug and rubbed his knuckles against the boy’s temple, intensifying the noogie when his victim screeched in fake protest. 

“I’m a warrior now, Uncle! Don’t mess with me!” 

“I’ll mess with you any day I want, young man.” 

Their smiles illuminated the hazy orchard, and the apple saplings swayed in time with their laughter.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Link couldn’t think. 

The smell of the Dark World still clung to his nose. It had sunk into his skin and crawled through his veins, stuffing his capillaries with dark magic and terrible thoughts. He greedily gulped the Light World’s sweet, fresh air and forced himself to his feet. The rain came down harder as he stood on Death Mountain’s summit, convulsing from the weight of his transfiguration. 

Could it even be called that? 

No. 

What had just happened to him -- that was no transfiguration. 

There was no glory, no beauty, no majesty in his Dark World form. His body -- strong, clean, bound in muscle -- had shrunk and crumpled into the form of a rabbit. 

A rabbit. 

Not some sort of primal warrior -- no wolf or dragon -- a rabbit. 

_ A rabbit.  _

Was that all he was? 

Bile slipped down his tongue, and he hadn’t realized he was running until he tripped over a wayward root. His body slammed into the mud. Droplets of crimson trickled off his sword and into the puddle beneath him, melting into carmine lace as they faded away.

Water splashed around him as Link tried and failed to get to his feet. He told himself not to look down, not to make eye contact with the pair of blue eyes staring up miserably from the puddle, not to swallow the taste of failure and shame and grief roiling like a tsunami in his mouth. 

And for the thousandth time that day, he failed. 

His eyes flickered for a split second to the puddle beneath him, and his facade shattered when he saw his reflection. 

His hair. 

It was pink. 

The rain rippled through the puddle, and a memory burned through Link’s skin. The smell of apple blossoms, the taste of new metal, a head full of pink curls and the laughter of a dead man. 

The weight of his grief stabbed through his shoulder blades. The pressure from his baldric bruised the skin of his shoulders. His nose filled with the nauseating stench of apple saplings left to fend for themselves, choked by mistletoe and destiny. 

Link crumpled to the floor. 

Failure tasted like pink dye and dying apple trees. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“What are you doing, Bipsom?” 

The boy startled at the sound of Link’s voice, dropping the trowel he held in his hand and quickly turning around. He shuffled to the side, hiding the unevenly-filled flowerpot behind his back.

“Nothing!” 

“Aw, you don’t need to hide anything from me, big guy,” Link said, crouching down to the boy’s level. Bipsom huffed and crossed his arms when Link repeated his statement. 

“Even if I told you, you wouldn’t care,” the boy said at last. 

The corner of Link’s lips flickered downward. In the dim, dusky light, the eyebags sagging between his nose bridge and cheekbone seemed even darker than usual. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Uncle Link, my parents are horrible,” Bipsom responded, wiping his dirt-crusted hands on his forearm. 

A thousand words bubbled at the tip of Link’s tongue, but he swallowed them back.

“What makes you feel that way?” Link finally asked. 

“They won’t let me grow any roses in the field,” Bipsom explained, stepping aside to reveal the flowerpot he had been halfway through filling. “I have to plant them in this little pot because Mama says the field is only for food. And they’re never going to grow big and strong in this tiny flower pot.” 

Link smiled. The skin of his lips cracked from the sudden movement, and he wiped away a drop of blood with the back of his hand.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” the hero said. “Roses are tough. They’ll find a way. Here, how about we plant this rosebush together? Just you and me. Our own little plant. How does that sound?”

Bipsom’s eyes lit up, and he pressed the cool metal of the trowel into the hero’s hands. 

The two set to work, filling the pot with mahogany earth and whispering words of encouragement to each other. A tinge of cinnamon and pumpkin lingered in the air. A crimson leaf fluttered down from the sky. The smell of autumn grew ever crisper as a breeze swept through the clearing, nearly wiping away the hero’s low, hushed voice. 

“I think we’re done here,” Link said, his words so soft Bipsom strained to hear it. 

“How long do I have to wait?” Bipsom asked, crouching over the pot, eyes trained on the dark spots where the seeds had been buried. 

“Quite a bit,” Link said. 

“Can you make them grow faster?” Bipsom asked, looking up at Link. The hero clinked his nails against the Rod of Seasons, made a thoughtful face, then slowly shook his head. 

“It’s wise to let them grow in their own time,” the hero responded. 

“How do you know?” Bipsom protested. 

Link’s mind grew quiet as it wandered back to his uncle’s forgotten orchard, ruminating over the hours spent digging up weeds and splitting his nails on half-buried roots, the smell of blossoms pried open by curious fingers, the taste of bad memories and neglected saplings that hadn’t seen a caring hand since that day his uncle had-- 

“Uncle Link? Are you okay? I didn't mean to be rude, I’m so sorry!” 

Link startled and collected himself quickly. “I’m fine. How about we relax until your mom and dad come home?” 

Bipson considered, then nodded as the hero took a seat beside the flowerpot and leaned against the garden wall. With a sigh as resigned as a six year old could muster, the boy plopped himself in Link’s lap. 

Link let out a small grunt of surprise as the boy relaxed and rested his cheek against his collarbone. Small ribs pressed against the hero’s own. A familiar warmth crept through his veins, and Link only realized he had begun threading his fingers through Bipsom’s hair when the boy shifted in place and snuggled closer. 

“Can you tell me a story, Uncle Link?” the boy asked. 

“...I don’t have many stories to tell.” 

Bipsom’s nose scrunched, but the boy didn’t press the conversation further. Link absent-mindedly worked his fingers through a knot in the boy’s hair and let his head grow thick with the sound of croaking frogs and the distant humming of farmers. 

“Uncle Link?” 

“Mmmhmm?” 

“Do you know how to make pink dye from rose petals?” 

“...I’m not sure. Why?” 

“I want to make hair dye from the roses!” 

“Hair dye? What for?” Link asked, trying to push away the inkling of an answer at the back of his mind. 

“Because  _ your _ hair is pink,” Bipsom explained, turning in Link’s lap to fiddle with the hero’s pinkish sideburns. “And  _ I _ think it looks cool. I think you’re cool. I can look just like you, and you can just look like me.” 

The boy twisted a lock of the hero’s hair between his fingers, marveling at how the dying sunlight caught and splashed on the oily fringes. Link’s face softened. Stars sparkled in the sky, and Link’s face crumpled in poorly-hidden confusion when the boy fell asleep in his lap. 

_...just like you... _

Link shook his head, freezing the warmth growing within him and burying it at the back of his mind. 

And across the sea stood a row of abandoned apple trees, their branches laden with snow and their wooden hearts iced with the burden of being alive. 

  
  


XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

  
  


There were a lot of things Hyrule was bad at. 

Cooking. 

Gardening. 

Napping.

Running was not one of those things. 

“Catch me if you can, Legend!” 

Hyrule bobbed his head in the distance, letting the tail of Legend’s stolen cap sway as he did, then vaulted over a fallen log and disappeared into the forest. Legend swallowed back a wad of saliva as he dashed behind the traveler, shouting a stream of obscenities as his resolve to catch his wayward protegee grew stronger. 

Legend just barely caught himself from tripping over a tree root as he thundered after the traveler, wondering how on earth Hyrule had managed to steal his cap from right under his nose. 

All things considered, though, the traveler wore the cap better than he did. 

Legend inhaled deeply as he picked up the pace. If  _ only  _ he hadn’t forgotten his stupid pegasus boots! 

“Traveler I swear--” 

Legend wheezed, and his eyebrows grew tight over his face as an opening in the forest loomed ahead. 

A clearing. 

He didn’t remember there being one here. 

Then again, he spent almost no time in the neglected orchard anymore. Perhaps that would explain the acid bubbling in his stomach and the irritability blistering under his skin. 

He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. 

“C’mon, Veteran!” Hyrule cheered, beckoning to Legend from a parting in the thicket. Legend’s pace slowed to his characteristic, easygoing amble as he slipped into the clearing Hyrule had retreated to, grumbling all the while.

His eyes flickered to the scene in front of him, and his breathing stopped. 

The twisted lace of dead tree limbs and rotting apples was cleared from the floor, replaced by a plush blanket of baby grass. Tiny daisies pressed their heads up from the ground, letting every exhale of wind pull their petals backward. Fairy dust glinted off trees so brown they were almost red, and a row of tall apple trees beamed proudly down at the hero. 

Laughter from decades ago carried on the wind. 

“Do you like it?” Hyrule asked, his voice low and reverent. Legend’s eyes snapped to the traveler, noting with detached interest how Hyrule had tucked all his hair into the veteran’s cap, then drifted back to focus on the scene in front of him.

“Did you…” the veteran whispered. 

“I found this place when we first arrived back in your era,” Hyrule explained, twisting the tip of Legend’s hat between his fingers. “Something about it felt important, so I spent some time tidying it up. Did you know that the Life Spell can also work to revive plants? Pretty neat, huh?” 

Legend’s breathing hitched.

“I have one more thing I wanted to show you,” Hyrule said. The traveler waited with baited breath until the veteran’s eyes were locked with his, then pulled the cap off his head...

...to reveal a head of brilliant, pink curls. 

Legend’s jaw worked in confusion, trying and failing to come up with the words he wanted. A breeze glittering with fairy dust wiped the sweat from his forehead, and the veteran finally found the words he was looking for. 

“Why...why? Did you dye your hair? Why would you do that? Are you crazy? Your brown hair is already fine, you didn’t need to--” 

Hyrule shook his head and smiled. 

“Yes. I did dye my hair. No. I’m not crazy. I just thought that the color looked nice,” he said, running his fingers through the rose colored curls on his head. 

“But why pink?” 

“What other color could I have chosen? I wanted to look just like you.” 

Legend’s eyes widened, and for the first time in years, his heart softened. 

The apple trees in the clearing shook with joy as they relished the moment. 

Just like Legend.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> ✨Dojyaaan!✨ There we go, I hope you enjoyed! This piece was really fun to write -- full-circle stories are always so fun to play around with, and it was such an honor to be able to write something for a character as complex and layered as Legend.
> 
> If you have any thoughts on the fic, please don’t be afraid to drop a kudos or leave a comment! I respond to every comment I get, and they really motivate me to keep writing! Of course and as always, however, you are never obligated to kudos/comment/etc, as long as you enjoyed the story, I’m happy! Take care, and happy holidays + new years to you all!


End file.
